


Code: ULTRON

by Pegasus_Eridana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bouncy castles, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Natasha Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3937108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus_Eridana/pseuds/Pegasus_Eridana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson.</p><p>Of all the bouncy castles on all the campuses in all the world, why did he have to bounce into Clint’s lovely purple one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Code: ULTRON

**Author's Note:**

> WELL HELLO THERE, FRIENDS. 
> 
> Just a spot of fluff to help those of us who are in the middle of exams, or any kind of stress, or really anyone who wants to read Phlint College AU fluff. 
> 
> Edited by the glorious Ismene_Jane, who is always invaluable, but in particular for this fic because she was able to point out all my Britticisms. Apparently Americans never use the word "wibbly". Who knew?
> 
> Enjoy!

“Stark, this’d better be good,” Clint said, holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder and huffing as he clicked “save” (for what was probably the thousandth time in the last ten minutes, but hey, this essay had taken too long to write for it to be lost at the last second). Clint had learned the “keep saving in multiple areas” the hard way as a Freshman, and now if he erred on the side of the obsessive about it, well, no-one could blame him.

“Calm down, birdbrain, I’m only calling you because we have a genuine, bona-fide ­ _code Ultron_ down here!”

Clint frowned at his computer screen, only lending half an ear to whatever Tony was blathering on about.

“Wait, Ultron? Is that the one where the giant robots take over the world, or the one with the alien invasion?” Clint asked, poking ineffectually at the keyboard in the hopes that a completed essay would just pop up on his screen, already.

“The robot—come _on,_ canary, you got actual feathers in your brain or what?” Tony responded. “I _mean_ , code Ultron is _actually happening, right now,_ and you’re just holed up, might as well be in an actual eyrie, _c’mon,_ Hawk!”

“Eyries are for eagles, not hawks, Tony,” Clint replied, starting to get irritated. “Now, d’you think you might actually get to telling me what the Hell is going on any time soon, or are you just gonna keep wasting my time?”

“Well, if you’re going to be like that I don’t know if you deserve to be told,” Tony replied. Clint took a deep breath, and evidently Tony got the message, because he carried right on talking. “Code Ultron, which you would know if you ever actually listened to me, is called in the event of a novelty distraction from finals stress provided by the college faculty, which in this instance just happens to be an _actual bouncy castle_ , so _get your ass down here, Barton!_ ”

“Shit, well why didn’t you just say that in the first place, Stark?!” Clint practically squawked, as he leapt from his chair, got his leg tangled in the strap of his bag (“Awww bag, noooo!”), staggered for a few paces, regained his balance, went back to his desk, saved and closed his work, shoved all of his work stuff into the now untangled bag, and exited the room at a dignified yet hasty sprint.

By the time Clint reached the field next to campus where the bouncy castles (because there were actually _four_ of the damn things Stark, you _liar_ )were, most of his friends had already gathered. Bucky had obviously managed to drag Steve away from the art studios because there they were, basically attached at the hip as always, on the red, white and blue castle, bouncing with almost military synchronicity.

Pepper, Wanda and Pietro were on the red and gold castle, while Tony and Bruce stood to one side, having a highly technical conversation about bouncy castles that actually were castles versus bouncy castles with slides and different obstacles that randomly inflated and deflated.

Okay, actually that sounded kinda cool.

Tony looked up, saw Clint, whooped and jogged over.

“Took you long enough!” he said, clapping Clint on the shoulder.

“Yeah, well, if _someone_ had just told me what was going on, I might gotten here faster,” Clint returned, giving Tony a friendly shove that sent him staggering.

“In any case, you missed seeing the subject of all your manly pining because like the ninja he is, he disappeared as soon as I looked away for a second. Shame, I’m sure you’d be all too happy to _get bouncy_ with him,” Tony said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Coulson’s here?” Clint blurted out, before realising how impressively he’d just given himself away. He stubbornly ignored the blush rising in his cheeks and instead replied with an incredibly witty, “Your _face_ , Stark,” and moved on.

“Friend Clint!” Thor (the Scandinavian exchange student) boomed from where he was emerging from crawling through a tube on the rainbow castle. Jane, his girlfriend, kept trying to slip away (probably to revise – by the bags under her eyes and the strained way she seemed to be muttering about particles, she was deep in the middle-of-finals-season pit of despair) but he merely wrapped his huge arms around her and started bouncing again. Clint waved back, but didn’t veer off his new course.

Because the fourth bouncy castle?                                                                  

Was _purple_.

With single-minded purpose, Clint strode over to it. Thankfully, it wasn’t very busy at all, and he easily saw where Nat was standing next to it, evidently waiting for him before she started bouncing with abandon.

Actually, that thought was kinda scary, but Clint had been best friends with Natasha for years, so he thought he could probably cope.

“You ready?” he asked, as soon as he had jogged the last few feet over to her. In response, Natasha  just raised an eyebrow and slipped off her shoes before leaping onto the castle, graceful as a gazelle. Actually, probably even more gracefully than a gazelle, seeing as four legs and hooves most likely wouldn’t be kind to the bouncy castle or the animal on it.

A sharp whistle from Natasha jerked him from his imaginings of a gazelle trying to bounce on an inflatable structure, and he toed off his combat boots without undoing the laces and clambered after Natasha.

The bouncy castle had tons of those inflatable appendage-y tube things that made the whole thing look like an anemone, and Clint and Natasha spent a good (and frankly exhausting, Clint didn’t remember bouncy castles being this exhausting that one time that they got one for the afternoon of the fourth of July at the orphanage) half an hour or so leapfrogging over the anemone things and each other, and hiding behind them (Natasha) and smacking unsuspecting victims (Clint) in the face with them.

Eventually, Clint had to call a time out, and flopped down onto his back, bouncing gently as he did so.

“Just…just gimme a sec to catch my breath,” he said, trying not to sound like he was trying to suck the air back into his lungs like a near-drowned man (he failed). He heard Natasha’s huff of laughter, and felt the vibrations as she bounced off to find another victim. Probably Tony.

Another five minutes, and Clint’s legs felt slightly more stable. He struggled to his feet and hopped off to see where the other guys had got to, weaving around other bouncing bodies as he did so.

The only warning he got was a _smack_ and a squawk that sounded like it came from Tony before a body slammed into his just as he was jumping into the air. Clint was sent flying into another solid mass, which let out a grunt and fell, with Clint on top.

“Awww, Tony, no,” Clint muttered as he fumbled around, pushing himself up so his face was no longer squashed into someone else’s chest. “Dude, I’m so sor--”

Then he looked into the eyes of the person he’d landed on, and immediately had to fight the urge to plant his face right back down again.

Phil Coulson.

Of all the bouncy castles on all the campuses in all the world, why did he have to bounce into Clint’s lovely purple one?

Kind, calm, clever, handsome, competent, sexy Phil Coulson, who was as good a shot on the college rifle team as Clint was on the archery squad.

Who always had a gentle smile for anyone who looked his way, who would argue Star Trek meta-theory and headcanons with anyone who had ever even heard of the series.

Who possibly took the starring role in most (Okay, fine, _all_ ) of Clint’s late-night fantasies.

And woah, hey, maybe that last one wasn’t such a great one to think about when the focus of those fantasies was currently _lying underneath Clint_ , pressed right up against Clint’s chest, his stomach, his…

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, _oh no._

Clint then realised that all of these thoughts had probably flashed across his face very obviously, and that while he had been having a minor mental breakdown, he had been motionless, on top of Coulson, staring down at him.

Awww, life, _no_.

“I’m so sorry, Coulson,” Clint finally managed to stutter, as he (carefully, with minimal contact of their lower parts because that would be the final straw and Clint really didn’t want to burst into tears and/or go on a killing spree right this second) rolled off Coulson and stood up. He held out a hand, and Coulson took it.

(Coulson’s hand was warm and dry, with slight callouses from the shooting – just for Clint’s future reference.)

“Not to worry,” Coulson replied, smiling that twinkly smile. “It wasn’t your fault, and I’m fine. And call me Phil, I’m not one of the professors!”

“Seriously, dude, um, Phil, you gotta let me make it up to you somehow,” Clint persisted, as they fought their way out through the inflatable anemone and to the front of the castle. Everyone else had mysteriously disappeared and Clint was still panicking as well as inwardly rejoicing at the longest conversation he’d ever had with Coul- with Phil.

“Well, you could always take me to dinner tonight,” Phil responded, eyes fixed on a point straight ahead. Which was probably just as well because Clint was in the midst of having an aneurism and that probably wasn’t very attractive.

“You…I…huh?” he said, brilliantly.

“I mean, only if you want to,” Phil said quickly, the tips of his ears turning red. “I just thought that this would be a good opportunity to…you see, I’ve been trying to get up the courage for a while now and, I don’t want you to feel obligated in any way, I, you’re just so good-looking, and your _arms_ , but you’re also so kind and smart and loyal and kinda perfect, and _shit_ , if you could maybe just kill me now that’d be just great.”

“Absolutely not,” Clint said, having caught up with what was happening and feeling as though the happiness was about to burst out of his chest. “No way am I gonna cheat myself out of a date with the guy I’ve been crushing on for months, now.”

The blush had spread from the tips of Phil’s ears to the rest of his face, and it was adorable. Somehow though, after his little outburst he’d managed to regain that air of competence and control that was so damn sexy.

“Months?”

“Months.” Clint confirmed. “Apparently it was entirely pathetic.”

Phil grimaced in sympathy. “Nosy friends?”

“The worst,” Clint replied. Then he smirked and raised his voice. “Interfering bastards, the lot of ‘em, but just this once, it seems to have worked!”

“Well we finally realised that leaving it to you would end in a big ol’ pile of nothing ever happening,” Tony said, emerging from behind the bouncy castle, Nat right behind him. “I can get you reservations at the best—”

“ _No,_ ” three voices answered in unison. Natasha herded Tony past them and away, winking at Clint and blowing him a kiss as she did so. Clint turned back to Phil, and tentatively slid his hand into Phil’s warm grasp. He was rewarded with a smile and a squeeze.

Clint’s tentative smile widened.

“So, dinner?” he said.

***

Clint wanted to have a bouncy castle for their wedding reception.

Phil said no.

After a lot of negotiations and a lot of persuasive arguments (blowjobs) from both sides, they compromised.

They got it for their beautiful daughter Sarah’s first birthday party, instead.

 

***END***

 

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**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Marvel fic I've posted, so any and all feedback is most welcome indeed. 
> 
> If you have any prompts that you think I can fill, feel free to have at it, either in the comments here or on my tumblr.


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